Chapter 3 ~ Etiam capillus unus habet umbram
Detective Robert Goren snorted quietly in amusement as an answer that had hitherto eluded him made its presence known. He carefully, and with an undisguised flourish, lettered the solution into its place in the days advanced crossword. A one-way mirror allowed him to observe the drug addict stewing in his own juices in the interrogation room at the other side of the glass but for the last fifteen minutes he had relaxed, confident in the suspect's ability to undermine himself without any effort on the part of the detective. Bobby had walked in to the room, taken one look at the junkie, and sat down with the crossword, chuckling to himself. A uniform watched Detective Goren's brief, but nonetheless accurate elucidation of the suspect's condition in awe and had jumped in surprise when the Sigmund Freud of the major crime squad had asked – very politely – if he would mind doing him a little favour. Pausing before he executed Goren's plan officer Nicolas Mackenzie muttered that this guy was insane but if it worked he wouldn't allow the locker room critics to mimic him for at least a week.
A fresh faced policeman suddenly opened the interrogation room door and walked in, stopping in surprise when he saw Max hunched over the table.
'Hold on, you're the junkie...haven't they charged you yet?'
Max, now bleary eyed at the pinnacle of withdrawal, pulled his ragged consciousness together enough to understand that he was going to be charged.
'Wh...wh, what? Charged? Huh?'
'Ahhh, Myers said they had shipped this waste of space off already. Hey? Sampson?' Mackenzie's voice echoed down the empty corridor, he continued more quietly
'This guy is supposed to be serving life somewhere far away from this interrogation room...crap.'
The officer shook his head in disgust at the floor before directing his glare at the murder suspect who was threatening to repeat his lunch. Max could not remember what exactly had taken place in the last few hours, but now seemed like a good time to rectify any misunderstandings that may have arisen.
'Hey you, I didn't kill nobody.'
His sprawling fingers were splayed across the desk, extended with his plea, they distractedly ran through his hair, and his ribs, pressed tightly to his t-shirt, leant a grotesque vulnerability to his sorry quivering state. 'It wasn't me, no man, I don't know what you been told, but it wasn't me that offed that guy, it was Eddie.'
Officer Nicholas Mackenzie decided to buy Goren a drink if they ever met in a pub. It seemed that only he could scare a drug addict into giving a straight answer without even entering the room.
Alex smiled to herself when the story of Bobby's scare tactics circulated in her general direction. She was hoping that maybe he could press the cumbersome book she had stuffed in her handbag to his forehead and get some sort of reading from the powers that be - namely his brain cells - categorizing her discovery 'catalyst of one of the strangest murder investigations ever' or 'nonsensical ramblings.' He was at his desk scrutinizing a sheet of paper, fingers steepled and elbows settled comfortably on the wooden surface. As she approached he moved and perched on the edge of the table, leaning towards her, obviously with some resolution to a case he was working.
'Eames, you wouldn't happen to remember what the code of your high-school locker was when you were sixteen-years-old?' Alexx calmly considered the question for a moment, 'something like twenty- four, forty-two, seventeen. Wh...'
Bobby cut her off, 'I assume you had a way of remembering it, like you connected it to something you were familiar with, right?'
It was too early in the morning to do anything other than humour him, 'yeah.'
'Like, boyfriend's birthday, number of tracks on your favourite album, number of nazgûl in the Lord of the Rings...'
'Ummm, kind of, can I ask why?'
'Just checking.'
'I have my own strange question to ask. Could you take a look at this book and tell me what you think.'
Bobby carefully opened the cover in admiration, impressed by the same illustration of Raskolnikov that had caught her eye.
'Ahh, turn to chapter three,' she raised her eyebrows expectantly as he paused at the persistent scrawl.
He looked up at her, 'What is this?'
'I was hoping you could read it and tell me. I'm afraid I'm not quite as au fait with craziness as you are.'
'Thanks,' he sank back into his chair and began to read absorbedly. Realizing that his emergence from this trance-like fixation with the prose was unlikely to be over any time soon, she dropped into her own chair and tackled the mount of paperwork that eternally remained undaunted by her valiant efforts. She heard Bobby shift in his seat and looked up. He was frowning, his eyes narrowed and he massaged his forehead in annoyance.
'What? What is it?'
'Shhhhh, I'm...', he waved her question away dismissively and gritted his teeth.
Unperturbed by his disregard she waited for him to explain.
'Hah!' he looked at her and motioned for her to come over, his long fingers ran quickly down the text searching for a phrase, they paused, tapping a Latin sentence, 'he repeats this again and again.' Bobby's voice was excited and interested and Alex knew that he was fully invested in this, her curious little problem.
'I finally remembered what it means.'
Alex read it aloud, 'Etiam capillus unus habet umbram. So?'
He smiled, 'Even one hair has a shadow.'
Detective Robert Goren snorted quietly in amusement as an answer that had hitherto eluded him made its presence known. He carefully, and with an undisguised flourish, lettered the solution into its place in the days advanced crossword. A one-way mirror allowed him to observe the drug addict stewing in his own juices in the interrogation room at the other side of the glass but for the last fifteen minutes he had relaxed, confident in the suspect's ability to undermine himself without any effort on the part of the detective. Bobby had walked in to the room, taken one look at the junkie, and sat down with the crossword, chuckling to himself. A uniform watched Detective Goren's brief, but nonetheless accurate elucidation of the suspect's condition in awe and had jumped in surprise when the Sigmund Freud of the major crime squad had asked – very politely – if he would mind doing him a little favour. Pausing before he executed Goren's plan officer Nicolas Mackenzie muttered that this guy was insane but if it worked he wouldn't allow the locker room critics to mimic him for at least a week.
A fresh faced policeman suddenly opened the interrogation room door and walked in, stopping in surprise when he saw Max hunched over the table.
'Hold on, you're the junkie...haven't they charged you yet?'
Max, now bleary eyed at the pinnacle of withdrawal, pulled his ragged consciousness together enough to understand that he was going to be charged.
'Wh...wh, what? Charged? Huh?'
'Ahhh, Myers said they had shipped this waste of space off already. Hey? Sampson?' Mackenzie's voice echoed down the empty corridor, he continued more quietly
'This guy is supposed to be serving life somewhere far away from this interrogation room...crap.'
The officer shook his head in disgust at the floor before directing his glare at the murder suspect who was threatening to repeat his lunch. Max could not remember what exactly had taken place in the last few hours, but now seemed like a good time to rectify any misunderstandings that may have arisen.
'Hey you, I didn't kill nobody.'
His sprawling fingers were splayed across the desk, extended with his plea, they distractedly ran through his hair, and his ribs, pressed tightly to his t-shirt, leant a grotesque vulnerability to his sorry quivering state. 'It wasn't me, no man, I don't know what you been told, but it wasn't me that offed that guy, it was Eddie.'
Officer Nicholas Mackenzie decided to buy Goren a drink if they ever met in a pub. It seemed that only he could scare a drug addict into giving a straight answer without even entering the room.
Alex smiled to herself when the story of Bobby's scare tactics circulated in her general direction. She was hoping that maybe he could press the cumbersome book she had stuffed in her handbag to his forehead and get some sort of reading from the powers that be - namely his brain cells - categorizing her discovery 'catalyst of one of the strangest murder investigations ever' or 'nonsensical ramblings.' He was at his desk scrutinizing a sheet of paper, fingers steepled and elbows settled comfortably on the wooden surface. As she approached he moved and perched on the edge of the table, leaning towards her, obviously with some resolution to a case he was working.
'Eames, you wouldn't happen to remember what the code of your high-school locker was when you were sixteen-years-old?' Alexx calmly considered the question for a moment, 'something like twenty- four, forty-two, seventeen. Wh...'
Bobby cut her off, 'I assume you had a way of remembering it, like you connected it to something you were familiar with, right?'
It was too early in the morning to do anything other than humour him, 'yeah.'
'Like, boyfriend's birthday, number of tracks on your favourite album, number of nazgûl in the Lord of the Rings...'
'Ummm, kind of, can I ask why?'
'Just checking.'
'I have my own strange question to ask. Could you take a look at this book and tell me what you think.'
Bobby carefully opened the cover in admiration, impressed by the same illustration of Raskolnikov that had caught her eye.
'Ahh, turn to chapter three,' she raised her eyebrows expectantly as he paused at the persistent scrawl.
He looked up at her, 'What is this?'
'I was hoping you could read it and tell me. I'm afraid I'm not quite as au fait with craziness as you are.'
'Thanks,' he sank back into his chair and began to read absorbedly. Realizing that his emergence from this trance-like fixation with the prose was unlikely to be over any time soon, she dropped into her own chair and tackled the mount of paperwork that eternally remained undaunted by her valiant efforts. She heard Bobby shift in his seat and looked up. He was frowning, his eyes narrowed and he massaged his forehead in annoyance.
'What? What is it?'
'Shhhhh, I'm...', he waved her question away dismissively and gritted his teeth.
Unperturbed by his disregard she waited for him to explain.
'Hah!' he looked at her and motioned for her to come over, his long fingers ran quickly down the text searching for a phrase, they paused, tapping a Latin sentence, 'he repeats this again and again.' Bobby's voice was excited and interested and Alex knew that he was fully invested in this, her curious little problem.
'I finally remembered what it means.'
Alex read it aloud, 'Etiam capillus unus habet umbram. So?'
He smiled, 'Even one hair has a shadow.'